


Don't Let Me Drown

by Itsbadgerbadgermushroom



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, F/M, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Racism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:28:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24686125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Itsbadgerbadgermushroom/pseuds/Itsbadgerbadgermushroom
Summary: WARNINGS:Implied racismImplied PTSDImplied AlcoholismArguing
Relationships: Nyx Ulric & Reader, Nyx Ulric/Reader
Kudos: 18





	Don't Let Me Drown

**Author's Note:**

> Recommended listening: Drown - Bring Me The Horizon

Sometimes it’s hard to pinpoint the exact moment where things start to fall apart because most of the time these things creep up on you, silent, gradual, like a tide slowly rolling in. There’s no crashing wave, nothing to warn you of the rising water until you find yourself up to your eyes in it and you’re gasping for breath. You’re faced with a choice then: do nothing and let it claim you or reach for the life-preserver.

You told yourself that you should have seen this coming, that you should have seen the signs because if you were being completely honest with yourself, when you looked back over the last five or so years, they were there. Like a small cut, innocuous and inconspicuous enough, but left untreated it festers and weeps until you can no longer distinguish the cut from the poison within it. You weren’t sure if your predicament was from your own willful ignorance, a refusal to see what your friends and family could see. Love is blind as the saying goes.

Your sink or swim moment came when your husband fell through the front door at 3am one Tuesday.

“Nyx?”

You rubbed your eyes as you slowly pushed yourself into a seated position on the sofa and allowed your eyes to focus. The sound of a body crashing into the console table in the hallway made you spring to your feet and rush to the doorway.

“Nyx? Is that you?”

You knew it was him. You’d half expected this after he came home from a particularly stressful deployment and refused all of your attempts to get him to open up and talk about it. When he’d walked straight past the dinner you’d set down on the table for him and grabbed his coat, you knew you weren’t going to see him until the wee hours at the very earliest. There’d been times where he hadn’t come home at all and you’d spent the early morning trying to track him down, only to argue for the rest of the day about how selfish and irresponsible his behaviour was and for him to shut you out even further. But now, as you saw him slumped against the console muttering something you couldn’t quite make out, you couldn’t abate the rage from bubbling and rising in your stomach despite the minor sense of relief you felt from knowing that he was at least home and not passed out in an alley somewhere.

“Nyx, I’ve been worried sick…”

“I’m fine” he spat as he attempted to take his shoes off from his seated position on the floor.

You approached him slowly with furrowed brows before kneeling at his feet and reaching out to help him.

“I don’t need your help!” Nyx hissed as he freed one of his feet from his sneakers and threw it across the hallway.

“You  _ never  _ do, do you?” your voice trembled as you spoke, threatening to break. “You  _ never  _ need my help. Instead you refuse to talk and try and drink your problems away!”

“ **I’m not sick!”**

He was yelling now, with a dangerousness to his tone like a cornered scorpion, poised and ready to lash out.

“Can’t you see, Nyx?! You’re killing yourself! You’re killing  _ us _ !”

“What the hell would you know?!” he’d somehow managed to amplify the volume of his voice and you were certain the noise would travel to your neighbours. Nyx wouldn’t be silenced, though. He never could be. “You  _ sit  _ here, in the safety of these four walls! You sleep in a comfy bed at night. Safety that  _ I  _ provide you, that I provide  _ all  _ of you! And what thanks do I get? What thanks do I and all of the other Glaives get?”

You looked at him tearfully, voice strangled in your throat as your mouth moved to speak.

“Prejudice” he jeered. “Racial slurs. Told to  _ go home _ .” His arms slumped by his sides in defeat as a single tear slid out of those ocean eyes you loved so much and down into his stubble. “As if they don’t realise that if there was any possibility that I could go home, I wouldn’t still be here in this fucking hell hole of a city.”

“Nyx…” you whispered, unsure of what else to say. You reached a tentative hand to rest on his shin, he didn’t move away from your touch and so it rested there but by no means settled.

“Don’t think I don’t notice the backhanded comments people throw your way, about how you married an immigrant.” His voice was small now, whistled out on an exhale of a breath and nothing like the howling gale it was a few moments ago. “That’s all people see, all people care about. They don’t care that I watched another three men under my command get slaughtered so that they can sleep safely in their beds. They don’t care that I don’t get to see my wife for weeks on end because I’m out beyond the safety of the walls fighting until it feels like my lungs are gonna give out. I’m not a soldier, babe. I’m an immigrant. A dirty Galahdian that doesn’t belong in the good city of Insomnia.”

Your sob came out a stifled whimper. You wanted nothing more than to say that none of that was true, that he was wrong. Except he wasn’t. Nyx was dead right and that fact killed you, but not as much as the defeat within his eyes.

“I want to help, Nyx… Tell me what I can do?”

Nyx sighed into the darkness and rested his head against the table. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure what he wanted you to do. He would never shake the heavy feeling in his chest that told him he didn’t deserve you and maybe it was true. Maybe he didn’t. It was the one thing that was stopping him from being able to meet your eyes, the feeling only made worse by the fact you knew him better than anyone and could feel your tearful gaze on him as you seemingly read his mind. You shuffled wordlessly and settled beside him, reaching for his hand and intertwining your fingers together, the simple gesture ripped the howl from his chest and allowed the tears to finally burst forth. 

You cried together. 

You cried for the men that Nyx had lost. You cried for every prejudiced comment that was ever made to him and his fellow countrymen. You cried for losing your way in your marriage. But mostly, you cried because neither one of you were ready to throw the towel in just yet. This was a battle neither of you wanted to lose and somewhere along the way, rather than fighting side by side, you started fighting each other. You rested your head against his shoulder and closed your eyes when you felt the heavy weight of his on top.

“I’m sorry…” he whispered out into the dark. “You’re right… I… I need to get help. This isn’t right. This isn’t fair on you. Fuck. I… I promised that I would always protect you… keep you safe and all I’ve done is hurt you… While you’ve been here all alone, not knowing if I was dead or alive...” His tears fell into the strands of your hair as he squeezed your hand harder. “I don’t fucking deserve you…”

You moved your head to look at him, your hand finding the sharp angles of his stubbled jaw to caress it softly. Your eyes met his, housing all the pain, despair and agony he felt, but when he looked back at you, there was something else - a ferocious love. A love so powerful that you swore that you would walk through hell with him, you would hold his hand and lead him through the darkness if he was prepared to keep trying.

“You think that you have to suffer alone, that you deserve it. That’s just not true, Nyx. And if you’re ready to take the first steps, if you’re ready to get some help for how you’re feeling, then I will walk by your side, I will follow you into the dark and whatever lies beyond that. But you have to be willing to make that change. You’re right, what you said earlier, you’re not sick. You’ve seen more horrors than most could conjure in their worst nightmares, you’ve faced it head on.” You paused briefly to wipe the stray tears from Nyx’s cheeks. “You’re braver than you let yourself believe, braver than anyone can ever truly understand. Facing your problems, looking them in the eyes and resolving to defeat them? That’s so fucking brave-”

You were cut off by his mouth on yours, the taste of whiskey still on his tongue as he parted your lips with it. He kissed you like you were the only thing keeping him tethered, like you were life-giving oxygen.

“Don’t let me drown, baby” he murmured tearfully between kisses. “Please…”

“I’m here, Nyx. We’re gonna be okay.”


End file.
